


Homecoming

by annabagnell



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Breastfeeding, Clothing Kink, Corsetry, Lactation Kink, M/M, Mpreg, Sherlock in Heels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 15:37:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabagnell/pseuds/annabagnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John goes away for a medical conference, leaving a heavily pregnant Sherlock home alone for a week. He's welcomed back with open arms and quite a lot of horny, dressed-to-the-nines consulting detective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I've posted kink stuff before. But never this many kinks mashed into one. If the following kinks aren't your thing, I recommend you turn back now.  
> "Homecoming" includes the following kinks all combined into one short one-shot: Nearly full-term multiple-pregnancy Sherlock, corsets, lingerie, tights, high heels, and lactation/breastfeeding.  
> As always, if you liked it, please leave a review and kudos if you think it deserves some! -Anna

It was seven days since John had left for the medical conference, leaving Sherlock - at eight months pregnant with twins - home alone. 

On the first day, Sherlock laid on the couch, feeling the twins move inside him and counting how many times they kicked in response to different genres of music. 

On the second day, Sherlock sat in his chair, using his belly as a tray off of which to eat and rest his laptop. 

On the third day, Sherlock ventured out for a few minutes to pick up groceries from the shop on the corner. He came back empty-handed because John had taken his card. 

On the fourth day, Sherlock sent one hundred and twenty six texts to John, only to get one terse one in reply: _I'm in a session, Sherlock, we'll Skype later._

On the fifth day, Sherlock managed to convince John to skip a session so that they could Skype, since John had fallen asleep the night before. 

On the sixth day, Sherlock came up with the best possible way to welcome John home. 

On the seventh day, Sherlock went shopping. With Mycroft's card. 

* * *

John opened the door quietly, expecting Sherlock to be asleep on the couch or in the bedroom. The doctor's flight had been delayed several hours, which is why he was just now getting home at half eleven. 

As he set down his bags, he looked around for Sherlock. He didn't see his mate on the couch, so he must be sleeping in the bedroom. John took a quick shower and changed into clean pyjamas before heading down the hall towards the bedroom. 

To his surprise, there was a softly glowing light coming from underneath the door. Sherlock must've been reading, and fallen asleep. John opened the door slowly and stepped inside, careful not to disturb his sleeping husband. 

"Ah, John, you're home." John jumped at the low voice coming from the chair in the corner. 

"Sherlock? What're you still doing up? It's nearly midnight!" 

"I was waiting for you." Two sharp clicks and a soft grunt as Sherlock stood. 

Wait, two sharp clicks?

The detective stepped out of the shadows and into the soft glow of the lamp, and John very nearly had to pick up his jaw off the floor. 

Standing before him was a very pregnant Sherlock, hands on his hips and towering over John. Four-inch patent leather spike heels graced his feet, and long legs were encased in sheer tights, suspenders holding the delicate lace up as they clipped to matching black panties, pushed obscenely low under the curve of Sherlock's twin-filled stomach. 

The belly itself was covered and supported by what appeared to be a maternity corset, rigid black ribbing and elastic stretching around the man's massive bulk. Sherlock's overlarge breasts sat on top of his belly, darkened nipples poking through twin o's cut in the garment's cloth. White pearls of milk beaded on the hardened flesh, and they dripped down onto the tight-laced corset as Sherlock took another step forward. 

"Welcome home." 

"Glad to be back," John growled, and left the door open in his rush to reach his mate. "God, I missed you," he murmured, rubbing his hands over the smooth expanse of cloth covering Sherlock's belly and mouthing at his breast through the thin fabric. 

"We missed you too," Sherlock replied, arching his back in an attempt to gain more contact. John let his hands wander down to rest on Sherlock's buttocks before lifting the man with a bodily grunt, Sherlock lacing his legs around John's back as much as he could. His belly pressed against John's flat stomach, and those sharp heels dug into John's spine as he tilted his head back to kiss Sherlock's lips passionately. He took several steps backward until he bumped against the mattress, and turned to lay the man gently down on the duvet. 

"On your knees," he ordered, and helped Sherlock roll and shift until Sherlock was braced upright on hands and knees, belly almost brushing the sheets as it hung heavy from the man's front. John tugged teasingly at the laces of the corset, finally pulling them free of the bow and letting the ribbons hang loosely. "Tell me how it feels," he said, running his hand across the curve of Sherlock's pert arse. 

"It's so tight," Sherlock moaned, right shoulder dropping as he moved the hand to rub his pendulous belly. "Rubbing against my navel, so sensitive and tender. So tight the babies couldn't move, held me so firmly it was hard to breathe." 

"Then we'd better get you out of it, hadn't we?" John replied, and started to unlace the ribbons of the black garment. He moaned as he saw the divots the tight ribbons had left in his mate's back, a crisscross of red lines running the length of his spine. He kissed each join as it was exposed, and as the cloth sagged away from the detective's belly, John's hands caressed the skin, puckered by the bunching and constricting cloth. 

Sherlock sighed in relief as the corset fell to the bed, letting his belly expand and drop to brush against the mattress. Purpling stretch marks riddled the bottom of his belly, and John ducked between the man's spread legs to press hot, wet kisses to the skin. He could feel Sherlock's prick hardening in the black panties, pressing against his neck and shoulder as it engorged. The sheer fabric of Sherlock's tights rubbed against his shoulders as he kissed Sherlock's belly, the lace slightly scratchy compared to the smooth slide of the stretchy elastic. 

John slid out from between the detective's legs and made his way up the mattress, coming to rest on his back under his mate's heavy bosom. "How long since you last pumped?" he inquired, voice hoarse with arousal. 

"Oh, god, nearly twelve hours," Sherlock groaned, letting his head fall and making eye contact with John. 

"So full for me, aren't you?" John replied, and pushed himself up on his elbows to mouth at Sherlock's hardened nipple. Milk streamed instantly into his mouth, flooding his taste buds as he swallowed. Sherlock moaned and John made a soft mewling noise as he nursed, the warm milk flowing down his throat and filling his stomach, warming his belly as he drank. 

John switched to the other nipple, stomach pleasantly full and bordering painfully so as he nursed. He eventually let off with a gasp, his belly distended and full with Sherlock's thick milk. The detective's brassiere was now looser, his breasts deflated now their contents had been emptied into John's stomach. John groaned as he moved out from underneath his mate, and rose up onto his knees to unclasp Sherlock's bra and let his breasts sag loose. He pushed Sherlock somewhat roughly to the side, appreciating the man's surprised 'oh!' as he landed on his plush arse. 

Next went the suspenders, unclipped from those delicious black panties, but he left the tights where they were. There was something about the feel of those satiny tights rubbing against his shoulders as he fucked Sherlock, how those heels clicked together with each thrust. Yes, the heels he could leave on. 

John pulled the panties off Sherlock's hips and dragged them down the man's (shaved) thighs. It was smooth going until the fabric hit resistance at the top of those sheer lacy tights, and John let them catch and drag for a few seconds before pulling them out and sliding them down, down, down those mile-long legs until he reached the detective's ankles. 

He lifted Sherlock's right leg first and pulled the panties over those shiny black heels before sliding the spike into his mouth, licking it obscenely for several moments. He let the heel fall from his mouth and Sherlock drew in a gasp as John began kissing his way up his calves, breath hot and mouth wet even through the sheer tights, leaving the panties bunched around Sherlock's left ankle. 

John trailed kisses up the detective's mile-long legs until he reached the smooth-shaven crease of thigh and groin, eyeing Sherlock's cock as it stood straight out, hard and leaking pre-come. John ignored the erect organ, instead shifting his focus lower, lower, until he reached the ring of…

"Ohhhh, Sherlock." Instead of meeting a tight puckered entrance as he expected, John came face to face with a large, shiny black plug. 

"Wanted to be ready for you, John," Sherlock groaned. "It's been in for hours." John nudged the plug upwards and Sherlock's body jerked in response. John grasped the plug gently and started to draw it out, Sherlock tensing slightly as the widest part passed his stretched entrance before it slid out easily. The plug was nearly as thick as John, but not quite as long, and the tip curved up slightly to prod Sherlock's prostate each time it was moved. John set it aside before freeing his own cock from its cotton prison, where it had been trapped tight against his body throughout their long bout of foreplay. He palmed it quickly before ducking once more and lapping at the spasming edges of Sherlock's stretched entrance, tongue darting in and out in quick succession. It didn't take long for Sherlock to be arching his back against John's intruding tongue, searching for more contact. His long-fingered hands rubbed the curve of his heavy stomach as John fucked him with his tongue, occasionally brushing his cock as they traversed the stretched expanse. 

"John, please," Sherlock moaned at last, begging his mate for his cock. John withdrew his tongue and grinned, sitting back on his calves and looking down at his already debauched-looking mate. Sherlock's eyes were heavy-lidded and dark, his hair slightly frizzed from tossing and turning against the pillows. His neck and chest were flushed, his breasts sagged mostly empty on both sides of his chest, and his belly was sweaty from stem to stern. John leaned down to kiss the dark line that trailed from his pelvis to his sternum, lapping at his belly button for a few moments before finally relenting and hitching Sherlock's legs over his shoulders. 

Sherlock groaned happily and linked his ankles behind John's neck, heels clicking softly as John shifted to line up with Sherlock's loose entrance. John licked his hand and slicked his cock with the saliva before pushing just the head of his cock into Sherlock. 

Slowly, painfully slowly, John slid into Sherlock's tight body, his own milk-filled belly brushing against Sherlock's as he seated himself fully inside. John caressed Sherlock's tight flesh lightly for a few moments as he paused to let the man adjust, and when Sherlock finally nodded he moved his hands to grip Sherlock's widening hips. 

"How do you want it?" he asked, voice low and dripping with lust. 

"Break the bed," Sherlock replied instantly, locking eyes with John and lifting his hands to brace against the headboard in preparation. John grinned and gave a few short, teasing thrusts, gearing up to fuck Sherlock vigourously. 

Sherlock let out a cry as John ramped up to pound into him relentlessly, pushing into his body hard and deep and crashing into his belly with every thrust. The twins awoke and started moving, pushing back against John's tight stomach, bloated with milk each time he made contact. Soon a cacophony of slapping flesh, pained grunts and cries of ecstasy filled the bedroom, and as they set a fast rhythm the creaking of the bedframe added to the noise. 

One of Sherlock's high heels slipped from his foot and dangled for a few moments before it slid off entirely, landing on John's calf and shifting further onto the mattress with each thrust. John's fingers dug bruises into Sherlock's hips, and the man's belly quaked with the force of John's thrusts. 

Soon, continuous shouts of pleasure escaped Sherlock's mouth, and John gritted his teeth and gave it to his mate harder than he ever had before. His orgasm was rapidly approaching, and he let loose one hand from gripping Sherlock's hip to stroke the man's cock. His knuckles brushed Sherlock's belly with every run, and he felt the organ twitch in his hand just seconds before Sherlock keened, loud and long as he came. 

John stopped his hips with a stutter and buried himself deep inside his mate, letting his own orgasm take him. Sherlock's cock pulsing in his hand, their babies kicking against John's tight, milk-filled belly, satiny tights rubbing against his shoulder and the single heel still digging into his back created a symphony of sensation as he came, shouting Sherlock's name over and over. 

Breathing heavily and trembling from head to toe, calves spasming as he shifted positions, John fell onto the mattress beside Sherlock, who had slung one arm over his quivering, tumbling belly and was gazing at John with sated awe. John grinned, quirked an eyebrow, and spoke. 

"I should go away more often. Quite a homecoming that was." 


End file.
